


very first words (of a lifelong love letter)

by picturecat



Category: Marvel, Marvel 616, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Love Confessions, M/M, Savage Land, Wilderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-09-19 19:20:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9457052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/picturecat/pseuds/picturecat
Summary: Steve punched a triceratops and all he got was this lousy love confession.(He's pretty happy with it.)





	

“You’re crazy,” Tony said.

Steve snorted. “You’re one to talk.”

“You just punched a triceratops!” Tony emphasized, opening a storage compartment inside the Quinjet to look for blankets. Both of them were soaked to the bone– Steve in his leather and scale mail, Tony in his skin-tight undersuit. Neither of them were looking forward to the Herculean task of getting their wet clothes off.

“Well, it did hit on my boyfriend,” Steve said, pulling the scale mail off over his head and dropping it aside.

Tony laughed, muffled, into the blanket he was using to dry his hair. “That’s one way to put it, I suppose. My poor armor.”

“Any luck with the engines?” Steve asked over the sound of the storm outside.

Tony tossed him a blanket. “Of course not, Steve,” he sighed, sliding down to sit on a blanket. “We’re in the Savage Land. This is where all my most brilliant and expensive technology goes to die.”

Steve joined him with the blankets, kicking off his muddy boots. He was pretty sure they were red, once. “If we had some hot cocoa, this wouldn’t be so bad,” he said, tucking a blanket over the both of them.

“I can think of worse people to be temporarily stranded with,” Tony allowed, faking disinterest.

“Really? I can’t,” Steve grinned, and oof’d as Tony got him in the solar plexus with a bony elbow. Laughing, he kissed Tony’s still-damp hair, the skin above his ear, the edge of his eyelid. Grudgingly Tony snuggled against him for warmth.

Tony sighed. “At least this time–” he started, then cut off. “No, you know what? I know better. I’m not finishing that sentence.”

“Probably for the best,” Steve said gravely. “Luck is an opportunist with a terrible sense of humor.”

Tony turned in his arms, laughing, to rest his head on Steve’s shoulder. His arms went around Steve’s stomach, still in his uniform. “God, I bet all this wet leather is a crime on you,” he grinned.

“You’re welcome to try and peel it off of me,” Steve said dryly. “And I don’t even mean that in the sexy way. You’ll probably have to cut me out of it.”

“Steve, darling, you’re like 100 years old, I’m pretty sure you’re not allowed to say the word ‘sexy,’” Tony admonished.

“You gonna tell the American people on me?” he hummed.

“Maybe,” Tony shrugged, closing his eyes as he tucked his head against Steve’s. “Maybe I’ll blackmail you for favors. Sexy, sexy favors.”

“You _can_ do that. Heaven knows I won’t stop you,” Steve drawled. “But if that’s all you’re after, you could also just try asking nicely.”

Tony shook with laughter, burying his face in Steve’s neck. “God, I love you,” he grinned– and then froze.

He licked his lips.

Steve had gone very still beside him, but Tony could feel the edge of his chin against his forehead. He was pretty sure that Steve was staring at him.

He looked up.

Steve was wide-eyed and wide open, blue eyes as vulnerable as Tony had ever seen them. He felt a little dizzy with it, watching Steve’s eyes flick back and forth between his.

“I love you,” he said again, and there it was, that tender sort of ache in his chest that seemed to lay him totally bare every time Steve so much as looked at him. “Steve, I–” he broke off, eyes closing. His hand cupped Steve’s face. Christ, he wanted to– to crawl under Steve’s skin, to bury himself in Steve’s heartbeat and his strong hands and his quiet smile. He just… “I just love you,” he whispered.

Steve’s hand grabbed his, the one still resting on Steve’s jaw, and their fingers laced. “I love you too, Tony,” Steve said, his voice quiet, a little hoarse. “Look at me.”

Tony did. Steve was smiling, his eyes were bright, and Tony hadn’t seen him this happy in– in maybe ever, and he did that, it was because of _him_. Tony Stark.

Steve’s thumb rubbed against his hand. Tony just blinked at him, slowly, because everything felt good and slow, warm and slow, wrapped up in each other, and somewhere during one of those slow blinks he must have moved, because he didn’t even realize he was leaning in until he felt Steve’s mouth on him.

He was hot. Really, instantly hot, in a way that ran the chill out of his bones, lit him up inside with the warm, gentle slide of Steve’s lips on his. Tony just kissed back insistently, carried again by that strange need to bury himself in Steve’s chest. He couldn’t do that, but he could suck on Steve’s lower lip, he could lick his way into Steve’s mouth and do his best to tangle their limbs together inextricably.

Eventually they managed to pull away–or, at least, to stop kissing, because they were still pressed together from head to toe and smiling against each others’ skin.

“I just love you,” Tony found himself saying again. “I really, really do.”

“And I love you,” Steve replied. “Of course. I did punch a triceratops for you.”

Tony laughed. “I think you had the right idea,” he said. “About the cocoa.”

“Yeah?” Steve smiled, stroking a hand down Tony’s back.

“Yeah.”


End file.
